


The Front Line of Freedom

by Vana



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Biker Gang AU, Leather, M/M, Only Stannis!, San Francisco Pride 1981, freeform randomness, short and sweet, sweaty t-shirts, the Whole Nine Yards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2014-08-15
Packaged: 2018-02-13 05:49:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2139393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vana/pseuds/Vana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Storm Lords are on security detail at San Francisco's Pride parade.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Front Line of Freedom

**Author's Note:**

> Pride in 1981 was called the International Lesbian & Gay Freedom Day but the name changed several times before and after that. The Front Line of Freedom was the theme of that year's parade.

Late June weather was always a crapshoot, but San Francisco had drenched every Gay Pride Parade with brilliant sunshine and sweltering heat since Davos could remember. Or maybe it was just the crush of all those bodies, shirtless and sweating since 1970 down The City’s shimmering streets, dancing and laughing, drunk and giddy.   
  
This year was different. This year, Davos was volunteering on the security crew, all clad in leather though he was. There was something about men on shiny bikes and in tight jeans that commanded a certain respect at an event like this, more even than mustachioed cops in the requisite navy-blue uniforms, nightsticks hung menacingly from their belts.  
  
This year was different, too, because Davos was there with Stannis. Stannis, who stood with arms crossed over his chest (and how the perspiration adhered the white cotton to his skin); Stannis, who looked angrier and sterner than any policeman (and what it would take to loosen the tension in his jaws and shoulders later); Stannis, who glared daggers at anyone — _anyone_ — who even came near Davos (and the way Davos would reassure him he had eyes for no one else).   
  
(Not a hippie whose hair brushed Davos’ shoulder as he walked by too close, his ass aquiver in polyester; not a bespectacled, professorial type in tweed and with warm eyes and quirked smile; not a well-oiled ebony man with large hair and larger biceps; not a small, androgynous person who asked for Davos’ name)  
  
(“ _No one_ , Stannis,” Davos said, “and stop asking,” and then he silenced his lover with a glance and a kiss and one arm wrapped around the taut back, hand sliding down as if slippery with lust to cup the perfect ass, Stannis’ only protest a willing sigh)  
  
Stannis, who got his share of attention himself with his strong thin body and his severe thin mouth and his blue, blue eyes (and when Davos caught sight of them the brightness of the crowd faded to nothing and the music dwindled to silence and there was only Stannis) — Stannis, who stood sentry behind the bikes and the sidewalk curb, who did not question or speak. Stannis whose searching fingers slid inside Davos’ waistband when they embraced in a fog of smoke and a shriek of electric feedback from a passing guitarist. The leather gave way under his hands. Davos closed his eyes and let Stannis hold him, swaying in a crowd of joy.  
  
It was 1981. The sun caromed off the black finish of the motorcycles, the heat melted the fresh tar in the driveways and Davos smiled at everyone. This year was different.

**Author's Note:**

> All my gratitude to shadowsfan for creating this AU and to starsunk for this most perfect idea!


End file.
